seeing
by unravelings
Summary: she has no home. she has no family. all she has is her sight. :maria-centric oneshot, dedicated to jayden.:


when maria di angelo is six years old, her mother is carted away because the people in her town think she's evil, that she has demons inside her. her father agrees and tells her that everything mother says is a lie because she's crazy. mother doesn't know anything, poor woman — she's hallucinating.

"but is she evil?" maria asks, because she knows her father follows everything the town says. and so does she. she thinks the town is silly, that this isn't the salem witch trials she read about in her history textbook, but she follows them anyway. it's the only thing she's ever known.

and, to her amazement, her father hesitates (really and truly _hesitates_) and bites his lip. "i don't know."

.

.

when maria di angelo is six years old, she stops talking about what she sees.

"it's harmless," her parents affectionately said. every child has imaginary friends at some point. they'll grow up eventually; just let them keep their delusions.

but maria grows up too fast once she sees her mother dragged out the door. she still sees everything she has before, so something is wrong.

and what she sees is a monster among the town's ranks, glowing eyes and all.

.

.

people start disappearing. a smear of blood is left on their floors, their doors barely anything more than splinters of wood. "it must be the demons from the di angelo woman," they say, drawing crosses over their hearts.

her father must have demons, too, they decide.

the monster comes for her father one night. it never pays any attention to her. they cannot kill a child who has no demons inside her (well, she's not supposed to).

maria is left screaming on the floor.

she never tells a single soul that the leader of the torches-and-pitchforks crowd is less human than the people he (_it_) accuses.

.

.

she's a smart girl, and she has some common sense. she knows people are always going to be suspicious of her, even if she keeps her mouth shut and her head down low, so she leaves for america when she finishes college. admittedly, it's a rather odd act, because the country's supposed to be raging with economic depression. still, she took several courses in english and it's not religious the way some of the italians are, so she goes.

maria di angelo takes one second to look back and pretends that a ghost isn't still floating around her home.

.

.

once she arrives, she finds a job as a teacher at a fairly good school. the salary is cheap and many teachers are leaving in hopes of finding better jobs, being unable to pay rent, so she doesn't need too many qualifications. she also rents an apartment that's basically falling to pieces, but it's something. she vows never to let go of the emergency money she has, in case the depression gets too bad and she has to go back to italy.

but even then, she doesn't think she'll go back to (not) home.

.

.

there's a war starting all over the world, screams the newspapers. maria normally couldn't care less, but a _war _on top of a depression that isn't great at all is the last thing she needs. she's far from the very bottom, but she's pinching her pennies and saving like crazy. looks like it'll finally come in handy.

she almost spends her emergency money on something else. italy is probably as war-torn as america. but no, she tells herself. the war won't last, will it?

the history textbook she teaches out of tells her exactly how long a war can last.

.

.

a friend of bianca delaney, moves to los angeles. maria saves up enough for a visit after reminding herself she's allowed to have some happiness and not constantly work, work, _work_ all the time. anyway, the money's just lying there and her apartment doesn't exactly have tons of security, and she'd be more angry if it got stolen instead.

maria arrives at los angeles two weeks after her decision. bianca and she go to a party, something she hasn't done since she was nine years old, and they dance all night. there's a cute boy who flirts with her and has a nice laugh, and maria's never wanted to settle down but she does let herself enjoy it.

her friend gets stumbling drunk and uses up a bunch of money, but maria still has common sense and sober judgment, so she doesn't let her spend it all.

.

.

when maria di angelo is twenty-three years old, she starts talking about what she sees.

bianca is tripping over the curb and giggling at random times, and finally, maria says something. the words are out of her mouth before she can tell herself what an idiot she is.

"the boy you flirted with at the party today had hooves."

bianca's shrill laugh makes her sound no saner than her friend. she waves her hand in an attempt at casualness, instead smacking herself in the face instead. "what are you talking about, mary?" she asks. "boys don't have hooves." another shrill laugh; obviously, she's not taking maria seriously. "like i'd ever date a guy with _hooves. _he was really cute, don't you think?"

maria bites her lip, except words are still spilling out one after another, about mother and the monsters and glowingredeyes, and _what is she doing? _of all the people she'd tell, bianca isn't the first person ―

"let's go for a walk in the park, darling," she hiccups. "i'm not feeling well. fresher air will do me some good."

maria can't help but roll her eyes; she doubts some fresh air is going to magically whisk her friend back into being sober. nevertheless, she goes along with it, all the way until bianca steps off the bridge.

.

.

the rich are supposed to be able to afford to pop pills that cure depression. or whatever the treatment is.

maria's hands are clasped in front of her friend's grave. her knees sink into the dirt, crawling with bugs and mist, and she knows she can't afford that. she can't afford to get depression, either, or else she'll step off a bridge just like bianca. except it won't be an accident.

taking a secret to the gravehas never been so literal to her. what a cruel joke.

maria almost crosses herself, but she stopped believing a long time ago.

.

.

this time, she follows the ghost drifting to the door of the abandoned warehouse. _doa, _reads the sign.

this is how she meets the lord of the dead.

.

.

"tell me what happened to bianca."

the cold-eyed man in front of her crosses his legs beneath the table, a startlingly human gesture for who she knows him to be. her eyes are narrowed ― she isn't afraid of him. she's got nothing to lose. he's hardly going to send her to punishment for mouthing off to him.

"the dead keep their secrets," he replies.

there's something in his eyes that's familiar, and she catches the slightest hint of fuzz above his lip as she sips her coffee. it clicks.

"tell me what happened to bianca," she says again, this time with the confidence of her father. bianca, she remembers, was a jew. _was. _"she was my friend."

hades looks inside her mind and discovers she has nothing to hide.

"i've nothing to do with you mortals' war," he says, and she doesn't believe him for a second. this is the man who breeds those who started the war in the first place. she's about to ask the question again, when —

"your friend is in asphodel."

he pays for the coffee. aside from telling her bianca's fate, it's the nicest thing he does all evening. maybe it ties with the fact he doesn't laugh as tears drip down her cheeks.

.

.

lord hades, she figures, has his own demons.

.

.

maria gets bianca's job, one that pays better than her own. she stays in california because it's richer than the place she lived, and by now, she isn't sure she'll ever get a home. moving stops mattering to her.

she stops looking back.

.

.

"the living are not allowed," charon tells her crisply, even as he's eyeing the fistful of bills in her hand. this proves exactly how much he's lagging behind in the mortal world ― the amount of money she's holding isn't worth the paper it's printed on.

"i want to see lord hades," she says firmly, and almost without thinking, she spills the greengreen paper onto the counter. it's only a few dollars — well, most definitely not _only, _but she owes the god of the dead two coffees' worth of money and anyway, she's finally decided to let go of just a little bit of her italy money.

charon stares at it, and she can tell he wants her out, _now_. her energy is draining out of her from being among so many restless spirits, but she keeps her chin up. "i'll see what i can do."

.

.

it takes three days before there's more coffee. more excuses to waste money. _no, don't think like that, _maria snaps mentally, sprinkling sugar into her latte. it's more expensive than anything she could ever dream of, but hades controls all the riches of the earth, so it probably doesn't bother him much.

"you wanted to see me."

"yes. are you aware the war's ready to end, and you're on the losing side?" she asks, eyebrow raised.

he looks unconcerned as he waves at the waitress, demanding more napkins. "of course. it will cost me a little, i'm afraid, but it's nothing i can't take care of."

maria is used to arrogance, and she sees right through it. "nothing you can't take care of? the time you're using up right now is probably worth my weight in gold."

"why did you demand my presence?"

her fingernails dig into the table's polished wood. she knows he's changing the subject, but she rolls with it. there's so many questions on the tip of her tongue — _is what i'm seeing real? can you move bianca to elysium? _(silly thought. she's done her research, and that doesn't happen.) _am i the only one who can see these things? the monsters — are they really monsters?_

the only one. she's reminded of another person. no, she's not the only one. at least, she wasn't.

"my father and mother."

"asphodel," he says simply.

.

.

six months, much more respect, sixteen questions, and ten coffees later, maria quits bianca's job and returns to teaching. she had almost missed it when she'd quit — the schoolhouse is no home, but now something pulls her there.

as soon as she sees the round, wide-eyed faces organized in neat rows in front of her, she knows why.

when maria di angelo is twenty-five years old, she finally sees her swollen belly. it is the first time she smiles about what she sees.

* * *

_meh, this was rushed and didn't make much sense, but i think it's okay. i think maria di angelo is a dearly underrated character, and i love minor characters, so voila. if you didn't guess, maria ends up naming her baby after her friend. we all know what happens next (unless you haven't read tlo)._

_if the lowcaps bothers you, sorry. it's my style. dedicated to jayden (skyblueroses). love you, darling. c:_

_x clarissa_


End file.
